


Wrapping Paper

by dedougal



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Community: cottoncandy_bingo, M/M, Pack Fic, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-20
Updated: 2012-09-20
Packaged: 2017-11-14 17:00:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/517515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedougal/pseuds/dedougal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles knows he went to bed alone. He'd bet the house on it. So why are there bodies all over him now?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrapping Paper

**Author's Note:**

> I have used Glomp as my excuse to write pack cuddle fic. Because. I am so happy right now. I hope you like.

Stiles was one hundred percent certain that he’d been all alone when he’d gone to sleep. He didn’t have magic werewolfy powers or strength and apparently when his adrenaline crashed, so did he. He’d been on the sofa, desperately pinching his arm to keep shocking his eyes awake when Derek had looked him over – raked him with his eyes – and pointed Stiles towards the guest room with the big king size bed.

Stiles had always wondered about that bed. Why would you sleep on a double like Derek did and have a perfectly good king size which would be excellent for sprawling out on empty? Stiles hadn’t thought much beyond that as he kicked off his shoes and jeans and slid between cool, comforting sheets. Alone. He’d left everyone plotting how to outwit the latest set of hunters to come try and make a name for themselves in Beacon Hills. In the other room.

So why was there a warm body pressed all the way up against his back?

As Stiles clambered towards consciousness, he became aware of more than just the body at his back. There was a hand wrapped around his ankle and one pressing into his chest. Even the most supple of bedfellows and determined of cuddlers would find it hard to stretch like that. Stiles opened one eye.

Isaac was on his back in Stiles’ immediate line of vision, hand splayed out to touch Stiles, mouth wide open, breathing heavily but not snoring. Full on snoring would have woken Stiles quite some time beforehand. On Isaac’s other side he could see the tousle of Scott’s hair. When Stiles opened his other eye (effort required. He had to blink a lot to focus) , he noticed Scott’s arm across Isaac’s chest, holding him in place. Okay. So Stiles wasn’t the only one being snuggled.

A quick look down to his feet revealed Erica and Boyd tangled together. The hand on his ankle belonged to Erica but Boyd’s hand was curled around Erica’s arm, holding it in place. Four wolves accounted for. Two to go. Stiles had a moment of wondering who exactly had adopted the prime spooning position behind him. He really really hoped it wasn’t Jackson.

Stiles felt a rough chin scratching against his neck which suggested that Derek was the one pressed up against him, thighs flat against the back of his thighs, hips snugged in close. Cock resting in the curve of Stiles’ ass.

Yup.

So Stiles could feel little Derek start to stir. Or not-so-little Derek. Morning wood. Automatic reaction to a warm body. Fuck. Stiles wondered how he could break free from the epic cuddle pile that he had ended up in, without prior knowledge or permission, in such a way that he’d be able to look Derek in the eyes again. Ever again. Maybe freeing himself from Isaac was the first step. Stiles tried to lift Isaac’s hand stealthily and deposit it over Scott. He’d managed to persuade the still sleeping Isaac to shift his clutch to his own side when he felt the brush of wet lips at the nape of his neck. Derek. Hopefully, Derek.

Derek was tasting him.

A warm arm snaked over his waist, fingers splayed wide and slipped under the hem of Stiles’ t-shirt. Between that and the whole hip/ass and the lips at the back of his neck that parted into a wide mouthed kiss, Stiles could feel himself responding. This was fresh hell. He was in a cuddle pile. He had been glomped on – in his sleep – and here his lazy fantasies of Derek were rearing their heads and getting him into trouble. The hand petted his naked belly lazily, tracing down the thin line of hair under his belly button, fingertips sliding under the waistband of his boxers before settling into stillness. The fingertips thankfully didn’t slide far enough down to graze his cock which was fully on board with the idea of the hand continuing down.

Stiles shut his eyes. Maybe he could go back to sleep. He doubted it. He had this unfortunate tendency to basically be either awake or asleep and, if he was awake, he wanted to be up and doing things. And eating. His belly rumbled softly, complaining about the lack of dinner the night before.

Lips brushed down his neck again and Stiles had the most uncomfortable suspicion that Derek (oh god, let it be Derek and not Jackson) was actually awake. He froze in place, in panic, in complete, blind chaotic terror. The lips kept moving, kissing his neck, the edge of his shoulder where it was revealed by the neck of his t-shirt, this spot behind his ear that made a shiver run down Stiles’ spine like it was directly linked to his balls and that was quite enough. Stiles craned his neck round, ignoring the way the arm around his waist tightened, keeping him close. 

Derek’s eyes were half-open, sleepy but aware. Stiles tried to glare at him and to wriggle free. That was when Derek brought out the big guns, rolling his hips against Stiles’ ass. Oh. OH. That was good. Damn good. Derek should do that again. Especially without two layers of cotton in the way. And… Stiles’ imagination was jumping right to the good stuff. He was no longer annoyed. He was more interested in working out what else Derek might be able to do. He was so caught up in it, twisted his neck to angle for a kiss, that he almost forgot that there were other people on the bed until Erica let out a really inelegant snore.

Well. That took care of the awkward erection - on Stiles’ part, at any rate. It just kinda wilted like he’d thought about his dad naked or something. His stomach roiled again, probably in disgust rather than in hunger. Then Derek was shifting around, pulling him out of the middle of the bed and leaving the others to roll together in something that resembled a giant pile of puppies. Jackson had been lying on the far side of Derek and he rolled across the vacant space to grasp at Isaac and Scott. Stiles only caught a glimpse of Erica’s hand snaking up Jackson’s leg before Derek closed the door on them and tugged Stiles’ hand.

The kitchen was bright in the morning sunlight – a little too bright until Derek half lowered the blinds. The coffee machine didn’t take too long to set up and Stiles took care of it while Derek worked around him, silent agreement on division of labour. Stiles realised he was watching the drip, drip, drip of the coffee longer than he really should to avoid watching Derek.

Still in silence, Derek returned to his place against Stiles’ back. Both arms wrapped around his waist and those wicked lips were back at the base of his neck. Stiles stiffened before relaxing back. Derek was warm and while it wasn’t exactly cold, the temperature was lower than when it had been under the pile of bodies he’d woke up in.

“You smell like us,” Derek said, voice rough with morning and sleep. “Like me.”

Stiles tried to think of a clever retort but he was distracted by Derek’s lips finding that spot behind his ear again and, yup, that was still good. A chilling thought refocused him. “Just because I smell good?” His voice wavered.

“No.” Derek didn’t say any more. Instead he tightened his arms around Stiles’ body and hung on for dear life. Stiles didn’t think he was getting let free any time soon.


End file.
